Besides recalling Aqi'ma and Roser, he also wrote down the follow-up arrangements in passing.
Safe mining of uranium ore is a time-consuming and laborious task, requiring not only the formulation of detailed operating procedures and the setting up of monitoring nodes, but also ensuring that workers have a certain understanding of the work they are engaged in and meticulously follow the rules.
Faced with the imminent threat of war, he naturally didn't intend to follow the normal procedures.
The North Slope Mine is a good example.
Directly purchase death row prisoners from Duke Quinn, and then stuff them all into the ruins, without pay or vacations, and without preparing protective measures for them. As long as they promise to serve ten years, he believes that those people will make the right choice between the gallows and a glimmer of hope.
And the lords of various regions will probably be happy to exchange the lives of these dregs for an extra income.
In this way, the exploration team's one hundred or so soldiers only need to be responsible for supervision and vigilance, which greatly reduces the requirements for protection.
Sean is undoubtedly the most suitable candidate for management.
Finally, at the end of the confidential letter, Roland specifically instructed the royal guards to find out the whereabouts of the "treasures" that people brought out of the ruins a hundred years ago.
After all, the several doubts in the rumors really bothered him.
This tribe that has never been recorded in history seems to have a strange worship for radioactive elements, using ore to burn bricks and build sacrificial temples, using it to torture enemies, and even swallowing ore—those remains filled with green fluorescence in Aqi'ma's eyes are proof. Although it is not clear whether their demise is directly related to this worship, it is very appropriate to call them the Radioactive Tribe.
Of course, the world is so big that it is not uncommon for any kind of civilization to appear. What is really strange is that neither going deep into the mining area nor using ore to make bricks could cause the effect of "flesh rotting." Even if they lived in the mine, enduring long-term internal and external irradiation from various decay radiations, the result would only be a sharp increase in the chance of cancer, originally able to live to seventy, but only living to sixty-six in the end.
After all, the efficiency of releasing nuclides by natural decay is too low.
The few unlucky people who died tragically in the rumors did not seem to have died from cancer or畸变 complications, but rather seemed to have been affected by strong radiation.
And if you want to meet the latter condition, you can only achieve it by making highly purified nuclear material reach criticality, and generating a large number of neutrons and hard γ-rays in an instant, but this situation does not seem to be a level that the Radioactive Tribe can reach.
Roland does not rule out that the rumors themselves have distorted the facts, but the tragic state of the villagers at that time should be known by more than one person. If it is true, the problem is likely to be in those "treasures."
Only in this way can the ruins serve as an execution altar—otherwise, each prisoner can live for more than ten years before dying. If this altar is not built into a high-rise apartment building, I am afraid it will not be able to accommodate so many people.
Unfortunately, a hundred years of time has far exceeded Asha's backtracking period. Now it is almost impossible to completely know what happened at that time, so Sean can only try his best.
He vaguely felt that the truth behind the rumors might not be so simple.
……
After Honey took away the letter, Roland walked to his desk and carefully looked at the rubbings of the murals spread out.
Although the distorted ink images are full of strange and absurd things, he can still recognize the general subject and object—the subject is mostly located in the center of the picture, with a large and delicate outline, representing the manager of the ruins; the object is much smaller, filling in various corners, and can feel pain and fear from their ferocious expressions.
This is probably the commonality of all intelligent life—always treating themselves as the protagonists of historical records.
As Sean said, neither the subject nor the object has anything to do with known alien races such as devils, evil beasts, or underwater civilizations. Their shapes are really strange, some like matchsticks, indistinguishable from limbs and heads; while others are like wriggling protozoa, with all the internal organs hidden in the brain.
The content of the murals is not all related to execution. Several rubbings describe the scene of the subject fighting against the object. They seem to be able to fly by swelling their bodies, using the advantage of high-altitude maneuverability to land on the enemy's rear on a large scale, realizing a pincer attack. The towering and majestic defense line did not play any role, the city turned into a sea of fire, and the object was defeated.
As long as you can distinguish the roles of each character, you can roughly understand the events described in these seemingly crazy records.
"Huh?" Roland's eyes suddenly stopped on a picture.
"What's wrong?" Nightingale noticed his strangeness.
"Don't you think that the scene in this rubbing seems to have been seen somewhere?" He walked to the painting and squatted down. It was the last paragraph describing the war: countless matchsticks merged into one, as if trying to make a desperate fight, but were still knocked down to the ground by the subject. Blood flowed torrentially, converging into a huge lake, and the surviving enemies fled to the seaside, and were all killed by the subject who came after them, and the corpses even piled up a small hill in the sea.
"Well..." Nightingale looked at it for a long time, "Apart from using more ink, there seems to be no difference from other drawings?"
Okay, combat ability and art appreciation ability are indeed naturally opposed. Roland supported his forehead and said, "First, help me get a map of the Far South."
"Understood." The latter quickly complied, sending a thick stack of maps to him, and also handed him a dried fish.
Roland bit the dried fish, his hands kept moving, and soon he found a partial overhead view of Endless Cape.
At that time, in order to determine the location of Daqing Port, he had Lightning and Maisie draw a detailed map of this place, so he always had an impression. When the two were placed together, he suddenly felt goosebumps on his back, and his body felt like it was being electrocuted, and even his fingertips felt numb.
The outlines of the two pictures overlap!
Although the details are different, the trend of the continental edge and the whirlpool sea boundary is basically the same, and the similarity is at least 70%!
Is this... a coincidence?
"Well, is the place in this picture the Far South?" Nightingale also noticed something was wrong, "Isn't that where the Sand People live?"
Roland did not answer, but quickly scanned the remaining paintings.
When he saw the second-to-last picture, the blood in his whole body seemed to freeze.
I saw more than a dozen subjects gathered on a high platform, circling around each other, and floating in the circle was an irregular polyhedron, with countless strange tentacles dancing on the surface, like the hair of the snake demon Medusa.
Sean had not seen this scene with his own eyes, so naturally he didn't know what the painting showed.
But Roland knew.
That was clearly a "God's Relic".